I don't seem do this well, sitting at the table pretending everything is alright. I'd rather sit in the corner of the bedroom and listen to beautiful nothing than listen to voices drip blood on razor blade silence.
Promises have no meaning to them. Absolutely none. But I will give you everything I've got to have everything make since- and then suddenly ill disappear. Gone without a trace.
Life shouldn't be this busy when I'm sitting on this floor wondering what to do. The answer is on my fingers playing these strings... *This is the one.